Serial: A Collection of OneShots
by lyn452
Summary: NEW ONESHOT Avery's thoughts (or lack thereof) on his former chief resident
1. Hands

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Grey's Anatomy or any of its characters. And I don't particularly like being reminded of this sad, sad fact.

**Hands**

Cristina always believed that hands were by far the most important part of the body; touch the most important sense. Her hands were her life and she looked after them with a surgeon's care.

She found them to be the most attractive and important part of a man as well. They were the definitive feature. Even more so by the fact that all of her lovers held the same respect for hands that she did.

_The Little Finger_

She didn't really count Sean as an actual lover, in her estimation high school boyfriends never counted. First time or not, it damn well shouldn't count if the entire fumbling experience could only be timed by a stopwatch. She lumped Sean within a group of men that didn't count. Men who were good for flirting, flings and stress release but little else. These were the men with fumbling, unsteady, unsure hands. These men were not surgeons.

_Ring Finger_

Her first real boyfriend was a man named Lee; a fellow pre-med whose oval eyes matched her own. His hands were soft from an easy life. His cute face held no lines, and after all, he was a great study partner. But it could never last. He always thought come over and study meant come over and make out, which it did after she got through flash cards. It ended badly because she wasn't the faithful type, and she swore she'd never date another guy with such boyish hands again.

_Middle Finger_

Dr. Colin Martow's hands were weathered, the true hands of a seasoned veteran. He didn't mind her other activities, they seemed to amuse him in fact. His hands always moved with such expertise that it made her shudder. But they also always moved down the same way, down the same well-trodden path. There was no excitement, just expertise. She always noticed when they laid their hands together they didn't match.

_Index Finger_

Preston Xavier Burke had truly beautiful, masterful hands. He cared for them so wonderfully; she once entertained the idea that he secretly got manicures. For they were the elegant hands of an artist, of a man who shaped his surroundings to what he saw them to be. Those hands of his were always sure, steady, careful and precise. She never found fault in them, even when they trembled and her own had to replace them. They were always what she thought she wanted, but they weren't there when she needed them to catch her.

_The Thumb_

Owen Hunt's hands were the hardest to explain, for they were a hot mess. They looked rough and callused, but moved with a gentleness that made them appear soft. They always moved quickly, efficiently and without hesitation. It made her picture them as grabby though they always go the job done in a far more professional manner than first appeared. His hands certainly didn't match hers, and they needed work though they were strong and able to hold whatever was needed of them. They didn't seem to be the hands of a surgeon, of a man who would attract her. Yet only in their fire could she feel herself melt and let in life. When she held his hands she felt she could feel his soul.

**A/N: **So I don't actually know where I'm going with this other than it will be a series of one-shots as I already have a second idea, which I will write and post as soon as I get the time.


	2. Seattle and New York

**Seattle and New York**

This friendship thing with a woman, it was a good thing. Mark Sloan didn't really understand the concept pre-Seattle, but now that he did, now that he had it, he saw its merits.

Really, where else was he going to get details on hot lesbian action without paying?

Still, there were downsides to this female friend thing. Women didn't always get it. Torres blew off his fistfight with an eye roll and an audible yet under the breath remark of "Men." Lexie just coddled him and praised the hotness of the fight, which was a fine reaction from a girlfriend, but he needed a guy to really understand his fight with Derek. He needed a drinking buddy and a grunt of understanding, which was what guy friends were for. Only, his go-to guy always was Derek, and that really didn't work in this situation. He needed a man and quick.

In a strictly, non-sexual way.

Interns and residents were out of the question; underlings could not be used for such a task. The chief wasn't appropriate either, man night aside; he wasn't about to confide anything to his superior, if he wound up confiding anything at all.

He'd been going over it in his head as he stood there in the lobby, probably looking like an idiot when a flash of red hair caught his eye. Hunt. He'd be perfect. Torres was right; the man could keep his mouth shut. Hunt had found Lexie stroking Mark's hair when he'd come in to do his post-op check-up and no one else had found out.

Mark ran to catch up to the other doctor as he made his way to the door, "Hey Hunt, you want to go grab a beer?"

Hunt looked surprised by Mark's request and stammered a bit when he answered. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Joe's?"

Mark nodded and they walked to the bar together without speaking.

_Drink 1_

They sat at a table near the bar but far enough not to be overheard. Hunt poured them both glasses and then sat opposite of Sloan. Awkward silence filled the space between the two men.

Despite being the one invited, Hunt made the first attempt at conversation. "So what brought you to Seattle originally?"

Sloan held no punches, "Sleeping with my best friend's wife."

Hunt's face widened with shock and Sloan remember he was probably talking to the only person in the hospital who didn't know that whole drama. He didn't want to get into right now, so both men took drinks from their beers and silence reigned once more.

Sloan made the second attempt, "So how's the whole adjusting from Iraq thing coming?"

Hunt tensed immediately, that subject was on the top on a long list of things he didn't want to talk about. But he saw that Sloan was waiting for an answer, so he managed to clip out, "As well as can be expected."

Sloan nodded and both men drank again. Hunt placed his glass down with a bit of force, deciding to cut the crap, "Why did you ask me here?"

Sloan shrugged. "Didn't want to drink alone."

Hunt persisted, "That's not an answer."

Sloan took finished his beer and said, "Maybe it's a kind of thanks for what you've done for me lately what with the broken penis and pulling me from the fight." He studied the last foamy remnants at the bottom of his glass for a moment. "Maybe I kind of needed a friend right now."

Hunt smirked. "We're friends?"

Sloan glared. "Shut up and drink your beer."

_Drink 5_

Hunt was looking at Sloan with something between abject horror and absolute admiration. Sloan just smirked, downing the rest of his beer after finishing his story. He smiled and said, "God bless twins."

Hunt just shook his head. "Man, I miss college."

_Drink 11_

"You're just mad because my team actually manages to win games from time to time."

Hunt glared. "The Seahawks have an impressive record…"

Sloan scoffed, "Please, they've been to one super bowl in their entire existence. That's hardly impressive."

"Well, not every team can more money than they know what to do with like the Giants."

Hunt was hunched over his beer, and Sloan gave a triumphant look. "Jealous."

_Drink 18_

Sloan aimed another dart, but it also missed the bull's-eye. He supposed it would help if the target would stop moving. "So I've been wondering, how is it that guys run into penile factures in the middle of a desert war?"

Hunt rose to take his shot at the dartboard. Sloan would remember that, but Hunt decided may be they could talk about it now. "People are idiots." He threw his first dart. "Yes, there is a lack of women in the sand pit, and if you still want to have sex somehow, fine." He threw his second. "Don't ask; don't tell. But that does not mean there is not a proper way to do it." He threw final one with the most force. "I mean, you can't expect to shove sensitive equipment up a tight space without any preparation and not have something get hurt."

Hunt scowled at the placement of his darts, he was winning but not by a very wide margin. Then again, it might have been the loud laughter of his companion. Hunt turned to him, "Shut up and drink your beer."

_Drink 21_

"Why did you say not to ask you?"

Sloan saw the confusion on Hunt's face before he could even ask the question, "What?"

"When I was gathering advice for Shepard's proposal why did you say not to ask you? I heard about the ex-fiancée so I know you did it at least once."

Hunt finished his drink and looked over at Sloan, slightly worried and even more annoyed. "You're worse then the nurses. Do you know that? If gossip played into rankings the Chief would have nothing to worry about."

Sloan finished his drink as well, not about to be upped by a meatballer. "You still haven't answered my question."

Hunt studied his empty glass for a moment and then set it down. "Why did Shepard punch you?"

Sloan signaled for another round. "I don't know."

Hunt quirked an eyebrow, "Bullshit."

Sloan narrowed his eyes and scowled his mouth. Only to shift his features into a smirk a second later, as though a light came on, "How's Yang in bed?"

Now it was Hunt's eyes that were narrowing. "Excuse me?"

Sloan laughed. "You know I didn't get it at first, how she couldn't even notice me, but then I heard about you two on the infamous Seattle Grace Rumor Mill and it clicked."

Hunt took a long drink from his beer, before setting down. "I never proposed to her, we were engaged but I never proposed."

It took a moment for Sloan to understand what Hunt was talking about, but then he realized he was explaining the ex-fiancée to divert the conversation from Yang. Sloan motioned for Hunt to continue, deciding to let the Yang discussion pass, for now.

"Beth was easy to be with, she was uncomplicated. If I forgot to call her, I'd get her flowers and all was forgiven. If I snapped at her, a box of chocolates got me out of the doghouse." Sloan nodded as Hunt paused for a moment. "When I joined the military without consulting her, I knew I would have to do a whole lot better than flowers and chocolate."

"So you went with a diamond?" Sloan couldn't help but say.

Hunt brought a hand to his face, rubbing his beard. "Not exactly." He took the hand away as he continued. "Three days before I left I took her out to this fancy restaurant and wined and dined her, the whole nine yards. Then I blindfolded her and brought her to a jewelry store. I stood her in the middle of the store, took the blindfold off and told her to pick out anything in the store. She picked out a ring with a pretty pink stone."

Hunt took another sip and took a deep breath before continuing. "I thought it was a sapphire, an expensive one, but I thought it was a sapphire. Until she started talking about our engagement in the car, if I'd known she was looking at pink diamonds I would've steered her away."

Sloan was confused. "Don't they label them? Didn't you see the label?"

"I was looking at her, not the jewelry. I only wanted out of the doghouse! I didn't want to marry her, but you can't really take that back. I was driving home trying to think of a way out if it, and there just isn't one. I swear, I was the only guy in Iraq who was hoping his girl would cheat on him, so I'd have an easy out. I always knew I wasn't going to marry her, but couldn't figure out how to make-up for that pain. Only to realize there is no way."

"I slept with my best friend's wife." Hunt looked to Sloan, the beer slowing his brain and needed an extra minute to remember the beginning of the night. When he finally nodded in understanding, Sloan continued, "The man who was closer than a brother to me and I slept with his wife, even fell in love with her. There is no forgiving that. Not really. I mean we're good now because he has Meredith, but the trust, it'll never be like it used to."

Hunt waited for him to continue, and Sloan took another drink. "I was always the screw-up, where he was always perfect. Even when he had problems and acted like a complete ass, he was perfect and I was the screw-up. Though I have my theories, I can only guess as to why he punched me, but I know why I punched him back."

Both men took a drink, enjoying the filling beer slide down their throats as they sat together in silence lost in their memories. The bar had filled since they first came in, and the noise covered any lapses in conversation.

Mark was the one to break it. "I could really go for some chicken wings right now, Buffalo style."

Owen looked up. "Me too." He checked the time at the bar. "Doubt the kitchen's still open here though."

"Damn." Mark finished his drink and brought back down on the table, hard.

Owen finished his drink as well, but lowered his glass with much less force. He started to put on his coat. "Come on, I know a place that has the best wings in Seattle, and it's open late."

Mark started to put on his own jacket as Owen called a cab. They began to make their way to the door, in a not quite straight line. Mark pointed a finger at Owen, wanting to make something clear, "I'm from New York, it's going to take a lot to impress me."

Owen saw Mark stagger and put his hand on his arm to steady the other man, much like he did after the fight. "Oh, you might be surprised with Seattle."


	3. Vows

**A/N:** I wrote nothing that is italized.

**Vows **

Preston Burke looked over his vows for the woman he was about to marry for the hundredth time. He changed a sentence and read them again. He felt like starting over once more.

_Christina, I could promise to hold you and to cherish you._

He'd written his vows for Cristina in one shot.

_I could promise to be there in sickness and in health. _

He loved this woman he'd proposed to, she'd make a fine wife. She'd be the Adele to his Chief, a traditional woman with a hidden strength and dignity.

_I could say 'till death do us part. _

Cristina would've been his Ellis Grey.

_But I won't. _

He'd loved Cristina, so much that he walked away. He didn't want to see her break herself into becoming the woman he wanted. They both deserved better than that.

_Those vows are for optimistic couples. _

Preston had always placed his bets on long-shots, and part of him always secretly hoped she'd come back to him.

_The ones full of hope. _

But his infrequent calls to Derek had crushed that hope. She'd found someone new.

_And I do not stand here, on my wedding day, optimistic or full of hope. _

He remembered the call distinctly, Derek had just casually mention Yang's new guy and feelings that weren't supposed to be there anymore came rushing back. Burke found that he desperately wanted more information but didn't know how to go about getting it.

_I am not optimistic, I am not hopeful. _

"Is it serious?"

Derek mumbled on the other line, as if he'd been swallowing food and had been caught mid-bite. "I don't even see it, but Meredith inists and she would know more about it then I would."

_I am sure, I am steady, and I know. _

"What's he like?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Burke didn't even want to think the answer to that.

_I am a heart man: I take them apart, I put them back together. _

"Just curious."

"I don't really know him much. He's pretty guarded. I didn't like him much at first, but he's growing on me. He's a good man."

Sounded a lot like Cristina.

_I hold them in my hands. _

Derek shifted the conversation. "So, another wedding. That must be exciting. I'm guessing I'm not going to be best man at this one."

Burke could see Derek smiling and felt his own lips tug up. "You've never even met the bride, Derek. With Cristina, marrying her was practically a lifetime commitment to you too because of Meredith."

_I am a heart man. _

That was the moment Derek brought up his own enagement to Meredith. Burke refrained from asking the question if he'd be invited to that one.

_So this, I am sure. _

Cristina would be certain to be maid of honor. She'd have to be there to keep Meredith from freaking out, just like she did at their wedding. Would he want to see her?

_You are my partner, my lover, my very best friend. _

Him with the woman who would be his new wife?

_My heart, my heart, beats for you. _

Her with her new man?

_And on this day, the day of my wedding, I promise you this: I promise you to lay my heart in the palm of your hand. _

It didn't matter yet, of course, he hadn't been invited. The decision had yet to arrive if it would at all.

_I promise you me._

Still, Addison's words echoed in his ear's once only spoken through someone else's voice,

"_Dump her. Dump her and marry me." _


	4. Mecca

**Mecca**

Callie did not know the man, Derek Shepherd. She knew him as a world-class surgeon, the drama that surrounded him, but as a person, she knew very little. That had been her main argument against Bailey, but it didn't matter because the argument was against Bailey. Even though it was a good argument as her bringing back Shepherd was doomed to fail. She saw this even more clearly now as she had another beer. You don't send a person to bring someone back from the abyss who barely knows them; you'll just wind up losing two people to the abyss. Especially when the person you send out is dealing with a divorce, a dump, and a confusing peds surgeon.

Callie should've never been sent out into the woods. She was not a woods girl. Now, if had been Mark Sloan she might have been able to do something. In fact, why didn't anyone think to send him? Fight or no fight, he was the best friend and this definitely fell into the best friend job category.

There were so many who would've been better for this task. But as she cracked another beer and smiled slightly at his last comment and looked at Shepherd out of the corner out her eye, she realized something. She was beginning to know Derek, the man.

* * *

Owen was aware of how much he was drinking. There was no denying that Shepherd's words had affected him, spoken with just a little too much truth. He called himself a ghost and Shepherd had called him dead inside, which were essentially the same thing. It's why he'd accepted the beer silently and commiserated with a different sort of comrades than he was used to, but he knew well enough not to drink too much.

He was still a man on a mission after all, and he would not return to the hospital until he brought back Doctor Shepherd. He wasn't lying when he told Bailey that he could, and he was determined to keep it that way. It was just taking longer than he expected.

He needed to stay sharp and aware, ready to drive back. So he watched how much he drank.

That, and, he worried about just how much of his guts he would spill to these people. Especially considering what happened the last time he got drunk. He wasn't desperate to explain himself and secure a second chance (and another date) with Derek Shepherd; it was also why he got a different heartbreaking story. It was only thing to wallow over surgeries gone wrong, quite another to break down completely over surgeons and soldiers alike blowing up in front of his eyes. He wasn't lying when he told Shepherd that he didn't talk about Iraq either. He couldn't afford to break, and being around a man who had gone over an edge he spent his life in the after flirting with as much as a certain resident was making this the kind of dangerous mission he once loved.

So Owen Hunt watched what he drank.

* * *

After the Chief followed Shepherd inside the trailer, Owen knew it was time to leave. He looked at his watch for the first time since arriving and was immediately brought to his feet by the time. He'd already missed Sloan's face transplant, and would soon miss Cristina's solo surgery as well.

Damn it.

He looked at his drinking buddy for the past few hours, she was looking out into the woods with the dazed stupor only the drunk and high could pull off. "Torres." She kept the trance, so he took her arm. "Callie, let's go, give these two some space."

She looked at him now, though it took a few moments for her eyes to focus. "What? I'm far too drunk to drive."

He began pulling her up and walking her to his truck. "I'm not. I'll give you a ride back to the hospital."

She frowned at her car, which had made him chuckle when he first pulled up. "But my car…"

Owen opened the passenger door. "I'll be nice and give you a ride again tomorrow when you're sober and you can pick it up."

He helped her into the truck like a true gentleman and she smiled at him. "No wonder Yang's sleeping with you."

Owen sighed. He tried to explain why he was naked in Cristina's bed that morning without revealing any details, but it was useless. He closed her door and walked to the driver's street.

* * *

"Bailey is looking at us." Callie leaned in closer to the glass, trying to get a better look. "Do you think that is a glare? I think she's pissed."

"I'm not looking at Bailey."

Callie glanced over at Owen, and it was true. His eyes were trained only on Cristina. If it hadn't been for the booze, Callie might have been able to repress the eye roll, but really she should've known, it was nothing new. She looked at Bailey again. Bailey's attention was no longer on the gallery; she was looking at Cristina with an unreadable look on her face. Alex looked like someone had just told him his favorite puppy hadn't gone to a special puppy farm after all. Callie wondered what was going on down there. She wasn't used to this perspective when it came to surgery. She felt like a spectator at a sporting event.

As the surgery continued Callie began to grow bored. Why were they here? Cristina was rocking it out. Of course she was, she was Cristina freaking Yang. Her first solo surgery could've been nothing but a success. Callie knew it. Cristina knew it. Owen knew it. Everyone knew it. So, Callie did the same thing she did when she got bored at a sporting event. She rose from the seat she'd taken and began cheering and shouting. "Go Cristina! Woah! Rock it out, Yang!"

Owen wasn't watching Cristina anymore. He was trying to quiet Callie and to get her to sit back down again. Callie caught sight of Bailey's eyes; she was definitely glaring now.


	5. Don't Think

**A/N: **So, haven't written one of these in awhile (or much of anything really) mostly due to the fact that I've been displeased with the direction of the show in recent seasons. (See how kept that nice and civil?) But I actually do like April and Avery as a couple, so here goes…

**Don't Think**

Avery tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about how Mark began to die while he was stealing his daughter for him. He tried not to think about how he hadn't had a chance to take him up on his last piece of advice. He tried not to think about April leaving without ever knowing…

Avery also didn't like to think about the night before the boards, partly because it also caused him to need some 'alone time,' but mostly because it just reminded of how badly he'd messed everything up. Best friends are not supposed to be so eager to sleep with each other. Best friends are supposed to talk it out and make sense of it all first.

He still didn't know what the hell happened, all he knew is he wanted it to happen again and again, for the rest of time if Kepner agreed.

That was the source of the problem. He was pretty sure he'd fallen for his best friend, even if she'd just blame it on the sex. He knew it wasn't the sex, as he'd had plenty of that in his lifetime and just sex didn't make you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, just a few hours of it.

And what was really killing him is that he could talk to no one about it. This was best friend territory and his was in Moline. He talked to Mark about it a few times, but even though he knew what his mentor would say, "Go get her," it wasn't actually helpful.

He needed a friend, and his choices were limited to either Meredith or his roommate. While he suspected Meredith would be the better choice, he found himself walking to the living room, "Hey Karev, want to grab a beer?"

Alex looked away from the TV set long enough to give Avery a 'seriously' look. "Why?"

Avery licked his lips. "Because Mark died. Because Arizona lost a leg. Because neither of us were on that plane, but now we're both stuck here."

Alex pushed a button on the remote. "Fine. Let's go."

* * *

"So that foxy little intern…"

Avery tuned out. He enjoyed good sex stories as much as any red-blooded guy, but they were getting repetitive. But he tuned in again in time to hear:

"I miss Kepner."

Avery nearly sprayed his beer. "What? You hate her."

Alex shrugged. "Yeah she's annoying, but if you haven't noticed, the apartment is a mess"

Now Avery shrugged. "So clean it."

"Can't you do that?"

"I'm an Avery, we always hired someone to do that."

Alex glared at his drinking companion. "And I'm pretty sure it's been at least a month since I had a meal that wasn't out of vending machine or some form of take out." He tugged at his shirt. "Been wearing this thing for at least a week too."

Avery understood though his missing her went so much deeper, and just as he was about to confess what had happened, Karev interrupted, "Glad Hunt went to get her back."

This time Avery did spray his beer, much to Karev's chagrin. "What?"

"Kepner's coming back. How do you not know this?" He paused, "She's going to come live with us again, right?"

Avery didn't know. He wanted her to. He wanted to see her everyday and wanted everything back to the way it was. That wasn't true. He wanted more than before. But before he could sort it all out, he heard a familiar voice, "Hi guys!"

Both men turned to see the ever-perky April Kepner. She was dressed in a suit and still had a suitcase in her hands, clearly having just got off a plane, possibly with a stop at the hospital. Avery wanted to stare, wanted to take in every in inch of her, but was drawn back to her face, her beautiful face, when she said, "So, I got my job back."

Alex stood and gave her a hug, which she clearly wasn't expecting. "Oh, um, okay." She awkwardly hugged him back.

"We've missed you. Haven't touched your room, so we can head back now if you're ready to go."

"Oh." April still looked stunned from the hug. "Um, I was going to ask if I could stay with you two again, but I wasn't sure…" Her eyes darted towards Avery.

Alex didn't pick up on it. "Of course you can. It's a mess right now. Like I said, we've missed you."

April rolled her eyes. "Of course that's all you want. I'm not your fricking maid, Alex. I can't believe the two of you…"

Avery finally stood and gave April a much less awkward hug before she could really get started. He whispered in her ear, "I've missed you and not just for cleaning."

When he let go, he took a moment to study her eyes, which were darting around. "Thanks." She composed herself quickly and smiled. "I'd like a drink before we take off though."

She pulled her bag up to the bar and went to sit on the other side of Alex, but he moved to give her the spot between him and Avery. They ordered another round, and spent the next hour or so catching up.

When April left to use the bathroom, Alex leaned over and asked Avery, "She seem different to you?"

Avery shrugged. "Not really."

Alex looked in the direction of the bathrooms. "Dude, I think some farmer cashed in Kepner's v-card. I mean, she's never this relaxed, and wanting to stay for drink?"

Avery struggled not to punch Alex, but settled for rolling his eyes. "I don't think April's been sleeping with some farmer."

Alex shushed him as April came back. With his usual lack of tact, as soon as she sat down, he asked her, "Still a virgin, Kepner?"

"What?" Her voice rose several octaves and now Avery wished he had punched Karev.

"Come on, you can tell us." Karev smirked.

April looked to Avery. He wasn't sure what she wanted exactly, but he guessed it wasn't the truth. So he went for his usual routine of protecting her, "Back off, Karev."

Alex threw his hands up. "Just a question."

As soon as April calmed down, she suggested they leave for home. Avery decided Alex could take the bags and get the cab for being his usual ass-self. He grumbled but obeyed, leaving ahead of April and Avery, and giving them a moment alone.

Avery smiled softly, "I really am glad you're back."

April seemed uncomfortable, wringing her hands. "Yeah. Me too."

Avery wanted to talk about it, about everything that had happened and where they went from here, but Karev called from the door that the cab was ready. April latched on to the excuse quickly, "We need to go."

Avery watched her walk out the door. He realized he was right back were he started. He couldn't think about it. Couldn't talk about it.

But she was back now, which meant there was a chance to talk about it. A chance to tell her everything. Though her being back could just make it worse. She clearly didn't seem as excited as him at the prospect of them being a couple, and even more clearly didn't want to talk about anything between them.

He shook his head. This was a problem for tomorrow. For tonight, he had his best friend back, and that was enough.


End file.
